Why Brock should never ever get drunk
by Emm
Summary: This isn't even funny. It's just a dumb story I wrote in ten minutes after having a weird dream about Brock getting drunk....


  
  
  
  
"Hi everyone. Itz me, Brock" he grinned, a slight slur in his voice.  
  
'Obviously' Misty thought amusedly to herself.  
  
"Anyway, I jus' wanna thank everyone for comin' to ma partee" he hiccuped, waving his champagne glass around. "'cause if none of you hadda turned up... well... there wouldn't be a partee"  
  
The corner of Misty's mouth twitched as she watched her friend struggle to keep his balance, waving his glass around. She didn't mention the fact that it wasn't 'his' party at all.  
  
"But anyways, I also wanna thank my bootiful iancee... um, fionci... uh... fi-an-cee, Mary" he grinned, holding his glass towards a small brunette to his left. "I luv yooooou, Mary"  
  
"Mary's... over there" the brunette murmered, pointing in the opposite direction. Brock looked to the left, then laughed. "I know THAT! C'mere Mary, I looooove you..."  
  
"Look, you're drunk" the snobby-looking blond known as Mary frowned. "And I am *not* your fiancee. I don't even know who you are"  
  
"I'm Brock. Brock the frog... I mean, crock... wait, Brock the... uh... sock" Brock frowned.  
  
"Really?" the girl yawned, uninterested.  
  
"Yep. Always have been, always will be. Unlezz I get my name changed. Or I decide to call myzelf Jeff..." he muttered, not noticing that 'Mary' had wandered off. Misty frowned and gripped Brock's arm. "I think we better go Brock. Otherwise we might get arrested" she whispered.  
  
Brock looked at her blankly for a moment, his mouth twitching. "Wait... who... why..."   
  
Misty shook her head in sympathy, then was suddenly squeezed into such a tight hug that she couldn't breath. "Itz Mizzy! Hi Mizzy, you come an' join ma partee?"  
  
Misty growled and pushed him off. "No Brock, this is not your party. We're going!"   
  
"Where?"  
  
"Somewhere else" she hissed, dragging him out onto the street.   
  
"Awwwww. Why we gotta go somewhere elze, Mizzy? I think that Mary girl really fancied me"  
  
"I seriously doubt it, Brock" Misty sighed, rolling her eyes at her drunken friend. "In fact, I don't even know why you dragged me here"  
  
"Iz fun ta gatecrash, Mizzy. I do it aaaaaaaaall the time." He giggled like a little girl, zig-zagging across the street as he walked.  
  
"Yeah, but why did *I* have to come?" Misty moaned, crossing her arms across her chest. Brock stopped giggling.  
  
"Coz yur the only one old enough, stoopid..." he tutted, as if only an idiot would ask such a question. "Ass... Ask... I mean...."  
  
"Ash?" Misty finished.  
  
"Exactly. Ash is tooooo young. Yur the only one around here who's old enough to come with me" he grinned. He put his head on Misty's shoulder. "Yur so nice. Will you be my friend, Mizzy?"  
  
"I already *am* your friend, Brock" Misty reminded him, irritably. Brock contemplated this a moment.  
  
"Oh yeah. Yur a good friend, Mizzy. Let's be bestest friends"  
  
Misty sighed, gently pushing his face away from hers. The smell of whisky was overpowering her.  
  
Brock narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. "You know what, Mizzy?" he asked, jabbing a finger in her direction. "I dun like yur attitude!"  
  
Misty looked at him in outrage. "What? Why? What did I say?" she demanded.  
  
"Ya should pay more respect to yur elders, girly! Back when I wuz a lad, people didn't jus' get friends jus' like that! An' when we did, we appreciated 'em. Ooh, you kids 'ave it easy nowadays, ya do! Back when I wuz a lad, we walked thirty miles through ten-foot snow to find a friend! Thirty miles with no shoes. No shoes, no socks an' no feet"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Brock?" Misty asked, looking at her drunken friend strangely. "Your only two years older than me!"  
  
"Ya givin' me too much lip, l'il lady! Ya not too old to be put across ma knee!" Brock yelled.  
  
"Keep me out of your kinky fantasies, Brock" Misty smirked, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Ha! Ya think THAT's kinky, huh? *I* can show ya real kinky..."  
  
"Uh, thanks but no thanks" Misty replied, screwing her face up.  
  
"Why not? Ya sayin' I ain't sexy?" Brock glared at her accusingly.  
  
"I never said that" Misty replied.  
  
"So ya sayin' I *am* sexy?"  
  
"I never said that either"  
  
"Will ya sleep with me?"  
  
"No"  
  
"Awwww" Brock pouted. "Yur no fun"  
  
He suddenly halted outside a brightly lit club, looking up at the sign hung outside. But seeing how he was totally drunk, he couldn't make out the words; all he could see was a blur of colours. Yet he was entranced by all the pretty flashing lights, and suddenly felt the huge urge to go inside and seek more alcohol. "Hey Mizzy! Lez go in here!" he called, pointing at the door. Misty walked back to where he stood and looked up at the sign. She glanced at Brock strangely, a small smile twitching at her lips.   
  
"You're kidding right?" she laughed.  
  
"No. Lez go in now!" Brock smiled, still captivated by the pretty lights.  
  
"Trust me, Brock. You reaaaaaally don't want to go in there..." Misty warned him, shaking her head.  
  
"You can't tell me what I can do!" Brock yelled. "No respec', that's yur problem! No respec' for me!"  
  
Misty narrowed her eyes at him. "You know what, Brock? Fine! Go in there! I'm not going to stand here and be insulted by you!"she shouted.  
  
"Fine! I will, ya... ya... woman!" Brock yelled after her. He staggered into the bar, trying to look as dignified as was possible after drinking 15 vodkas and 3 whiskys.   
  
Misty watched him go in with an evil smirk on her face, then gazed up at Veridian City's most notorious gay club.  
  
"Sweet dreams, Brock"  
  



End file.
